One Challenge At a Time
by poptart711
Summary: Since the Reichenbach Fall, Sherlock has been living with Molly. All is well until Sherlock gets a call that Molly has been in a serious car accident while on her way to visit a sick relative, leaving her cousins dead and their son in her care. Then it turns out that her "accident" wasn't so "accidental" after all. It's a case only Sherlock can solve, but there are some setbacks...


**So, never written anything for Sherlock before. I haven't watched it in a long time either, so this may not be that accurate. Warning...er...spoilers? Hope you like it!**

* * *

 _Come on, come on. There HAS to be a connection here. I know there is._

Two women. Both in their late thirties and divorced. Both had a strange bruise on their left temple. Yet…one was bludgeoned to death, and the other was believed to have drowned in a river. Their deaths were a week apart and they currently had no relation to each other. At least that's what everyone believed.

"Mistresses…" Sherlock muttered to himself. "Or sister wives perhaps?"

Damn, it was quiet. He's grown too used to asking for the opinions (or more like insulting the opinions) of the people around him, that suddenly having only the silence respond back to him was almost disappointing. At least when a human being responded, he would be able to dwell in the satisfaction of knowing how great his intellect far surpassed that person. Was this what they would call…missing someone? Maybe…he did miss a few people. Especially John. He would never admit that though, openly or to himself.

Sherlock continued to ponder over the two murder cases, testing out theories in his head that could explain things in a way that even the lesser minded folk could understand. Not to mention, there was all the unfound evidence to consider as well. Why were the police so quick to jump to judgment in these types of scenarios?

Sherlock threw down his pen. "Forget it. This novel will just have to wait."

It was during times like these that he wished he had an actual case to solve. Of course, going out into the public would be too risky, if not down right idiotic. He of all people knew that, which was why he was stuck here, in his colleague's Molly's home, helping her attempt to write a thriller mystery novel. It was the least he could do to keep his deductive skills sharpened, even though it wasn't really on par with which they were usually challenged. At least it was better than nothing.

Sighing, the man arose from his desk and paced around the bedroom, then the whole home. It was small, but it wasn't anything like his flat at 221B. There was no smiley face on the wall for him to shoot at on the wall when he was bored, no chemistry sets and Bunsen burners lying about, no sweet and smiling old Mrs. Hudson around to offer him a cup of tea. It was just an ordinary home fitting of its ordinary owner, though he wasn't sure if he would call Molly an "ordinary" person. She had her moments.

Sherlock finally made his way to the kitchen to prepare himself a cup of tea. Normally, Molly would leave him a fresh pot before she left for work, but she was required to take some sick days to go visit a relative who had fallen ill, therefore leaving Sherlock alone to the house. She was at least generous enough to neatly arrange the tea bags in accordance to what he liked best. He smirked a little; that would be something she would do. Browsing through the selections, he finally decided on English Breakfast tea before setting a pot full of water on the stove to boil. After a few minutes, the water was just about ready to be poured over the tea bag when all of a sudden the phone began to ring. Sherlock didn't even bother to answer it, considering that it would be foolish to speak in his own voice to someone when he was supposed to be dead. He sat down in a chair to sip on his steaming cup of tea as he waited for the machine to take a message. Yet it never came. Instead, his cell phone began to rang. Now that did get his attention. Molly got him a new cell phone with a new number without any of his contacts besides hers. With that information in mind, he knew immediately who it was without even checking the I.D.

"Why is she calling me?" Sherlock mused aloud. "Did her relative die already?"

Thinking she was just trying to check up on him, he decided to let this one go to voicemail too. Instead of going to voicemail, however, his phone started ringing again. Sherlock gazed curiously at it, watching the screen blink like it was demanding his attention. After ringing a third time and getting notifications about two missed calls, he sighed and finally answered his phone.

"Molly." He just stated blandly.

"Is this Mr. Basil Hope?" came a male voice on the other end.

 _Dammit!_ Sherlock inwardly cursed upon hearing his alias. What were the chances of his contact name being called? And who was this person calling from Molly's phone anyways?

The man continued, despite Sherlock's silence. "You were listed as an emergency contact for Ms. Hooper in her phone."

"Oh." Sherlock did his best to disguise his voice. Yet now he was starting to feel concerned. What happened to Molly that required one of her emergency contacts to be dialed? "Yes, sir?"

"I'm Dr. Lawrence Kearney, chief of emergency medicine at St. Mary's Medical Center. I'm sorry to have to inform you of this, but Ms. Hooper was in a serious car accident early this afternoon and was just now admitted with multiple injuries. She's currently unresponsive. Do you think you could come down here as soon as you can?"

Sherlock's mouth ran dry. "How is she?"

"Not good, I'm afraid. She's already flatlined twice. She'll probably have to have surgery to be assessed for organ damage. As I said, it's better if you'd just get here as soon as possible."

Something in that doctor's tone was implying some bad news, and he certainly wasn't going to disclose that over the phone. If Molly pulled through this okay…oh, was she going to be in for an earful once she recovered. Groaning, he quickly went over to a computer and typed in the name and found the address. Seeing that it was a good four hours away and out in the countryside, there would be less of a chance that he would be discovered. Still, he wasn't going to take any chances. He assured the doctor that he would be there soon and hung up the phone, immediately going over to his closet to select clothes that were unbefitting of the world's most powerful mastermind. He sighed, seeing that most of his clothes would give him away in a heartbeat. Then he got an idea. He stripped off his current clothes and went digging around in Molly's drawers until he found what he was looking for: a faded pair of her university's sweatpants. Then, grabbing a pair of scissors from her desk, he began cutting random holes in the legs and then one big hole to expose the knee. He smiled at his handiwork and put them on. He still couldn't go out without a shirt, so he settled with a t-shirt Molly had gotten him for his birthday one year that said "Your Lack of Knowledge Disturbs Me" and a black scarf. Just to be safe, he put on a pair of sunglasses and a navy blue baseball hat, both of which belonged to Molly, before heading out the door and calling for a taxi to come and meet him. Instead of directly talking to the driver, he just handed him a piece of paper with the name of the place along with the exact payment, including the tip, that it would take to get there. The driver glanced at him suspiciously.

"Oi…haven't I seen you before?" He asked.

Sherlock just wordlessly shrugged, then slipped him another pound. That was enough to get the driver to stop asking questions and to start driving. As Sherlock glanced out the bleary windows over at the passing roads of foggy London, he couldn't shake the feeling that maybe there was more to this whole accident that met the eye, that something suspicious was happening right now, and it would require a person of a high caliber mind to be ready to rise against the challenge. A person of his stature. That person…was he.

 _And I can't be caught…_

Nothing ever went easy for him, but then again, maybe he liked it that way. The rest of the car ride continued in silence. Before he knew it, he was dropped off at the entrance to Emergency at St. Mary's Medical Center where Molly was currently fighting for her life. Pulling his scarf over his three-month-stubbly face, he casually walked into the building.


End file.
